


Socks

by greenwillow



Series: Top of the Class [6]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Actually they are BOTH idiots, Aethelflaed is so so so posh, Aldhelm is an idiot, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, GET IT AETHELFLAED, Gen, It cannot be overstated how much this prompt got away from me, Screwball comedy shenanigans, Secret Relationship, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenwillow/pseuds/greenwillow
Summary: Aldhelm and Aethelflaed dance around the inevitable. Aldhelm attends Hild’s impromptu dinner party, and he realizes they have more in common than he thought.
Relationships: Aethelflaed Lady of Mercia/Aldhelm (The Last Kingdom), Aldhelm (The Last Kingdom) & Hild (The Last Kingdom)
Series: Top of the Class [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048940
Comments: 10
Kudos: 7





	Socks

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone is hanging in there <3
> 
> This update has a bit of smut, so feel free to skip over or skim that, but there's definitely more besides--mostly Aldhelm being an idiot, which, I assume, is why you're here.

**_Friday_ **

“Fuck.”

Aldhelm stares down at the thumbnail-sized wine stain on the arm of his shirt. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

He carefully sets his glass on the kitchen counter and begins to undo the buttons on the cuffs. Aethelflaed is in her bedroom getting changed, but she probably won’t mind if he throws his shirt in with her laundry.

The realization that he has never seen her laundry machine occurs to him when he’s stripped down to his undershirt. There are no closets in the main space, and it’s not in the bathroom either.

His second thought is that she must use a laundromat. His third thought, hot on the heels of the second, is that Aethelflaed has never set foot in a laundromat, let alone knows where to find one.

She rejoins him now, wearing the silk pajamas he’s grown accustomed to seeing her in and pulling her hair into a ponytail.

“What happened to your shirt?” she asks, and at the same time he says, “You have a laundry service, don't you?”

“Of course I do,” she says, plucking the shirt collar from between his fingers and putting a keen eye to the stain. “You know these are only to be dry cleaned, I hope? You’ll ruin it if you try to put it in an ordinary washing machine. Edward did that with one of his school uniform shirts once and it warped the seams.”

Her nose wrinkles with mild distaste as she speaks. Aldhelm just sighs in fond exasperation and follows her to the bedroom.

Aethelflaed certainly has more money than anyone he’s ever been with before, though occasionally he will forget until he catches a glimpse of her fridge (she keeps bottled mineral water, oat milk, lemons, and very little else—she eats take away for nearly every meal) or sees the label on a pair of shoes that he would never have known were Chanel just by looking at them.

He brought half a loaf of bread with him one Friday and was quite distraught the following morning when he realized she had no butter. Aethelflaed just laughed and offered to place an order with her grocery delivery service. Scandalized, he declined and ate his toast dry while she made the coffee.

She does make her own coffee most days, which he appreciates. He knows she usually wakes up fairly early to have time to exercise and prepare for the day, but when he spends the night she allows herself to sleep in just a bit longer. While he has perhaps disrupted her routine, she’s made room for him out of some type of affection. He refuses to read into this much, but the energy between them remains easy and light. If the relationship is to continue, he’s pleased to know that it will continue on terms they both remain comfortable with.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says as she grabs a hanger for his shirt. “You might as well have a drawer of things here. I have the space.”

She gestures behind her to a dresser that’s tucked in the corner of the walk-in wardrobe.

He cocks his head and leans against the door frame, arms crossed. “Oh?”

She looks back, an almost aggressively innocent look on her face. “You know, for socks and things.”

“Yes, socks are very important.”

A small laugh escapes her, but she shrugs. “Only if you want. You can say no. But it strikes me as rather silly for you to carry extra clothes around in addition to all your books and things.”

He watches as she gathers the rest of the dry cleaning together and moves it to another bar in the closet. It’s an unexpected offer, though not unwanted. She’s right, the situation has grown slightly inconvenient. He’s taken to carrying some overnight things (concealed in a computer bag, of course). But somehow, the idea of a drawer at her place feels far more serious than the reality that they spend several nights a week in the same bed.

It’s midway through November now, and the fact that things haven’t begun to fizzle between them (despite the awkwardness that resulted from their impromptu visit to his parents’ home) is making him wonder how things will end. He had expected things to have ended already—for one of them to become too busy, or meet someone else, or simply for them to lose interest in each other.

They have to end at some point, of course. Aethelflaed hasn’t said it outright, but he knows she’s expected to date someone quite different the next time she embarks on a not so casual relationship. Not that he would have thought they’d have ended up together semi-permanently anyway. But what has hung between them as easiness is starting to feel like the elephant in the room.

Still, there’s no need to bring that up today. He can leave a pair of socks and they can talk things through later.

* * *

_**Saturday** _

“You’ve been staring at that page for nearly twenty minutes now.”

He glances up at where Aethelflaed is curled on the sofa across the room, balancing her laptop on her thighs in the completely impractical way that seems to be how she edits papers.

“Stuck on this particular passage,” he replies, setting a pencil in the spine to mark his place and rising to his feet.

The dining table of her flat has become his workspace. He’s been at her place so often over the past two months that he’s left quite a few books there, not needing to carry them back to his place when hers is so much closer to campus and she didn’t mind having him around.

He stretches his arms over his head briefly and takes a seat beside her, pulling her legs onto his lap and sinking back into the couch. She shoots him a small, satisfied smile, and returns her gaze to her computer.

“Five more minutes, then break.”

He nods and leans his head back, resting his eyes for a moment and listening to the rhythmic tapping her fingers make against the keyboard.

She hasn’t mentioned what she’s working on so he knows it must be for Pyrlig’s class. They are careful never to speak of her assignments before she’s turned them in. She is naturally still the best student in that section, but it continues to be on her own merit.

The tapping stops. He feels her shift as she sets her laptop down on the coffee table, then as he opens his eyes she’s swinging a leg over to straddle him.

Her hair is twisted into a bun on top of her head, but a few strands have fallen loose around her face. He sweeps them back, then runs his thumb over her lower lip. She smiles, her eyes deepening, and leans forward to kiss him.

They’ve kissed hundreds of times since that first day in September, but the novelty has yet to fade. Each time still feels exciting and new.

The Aethelflaed here, in her flat, with only him, is different than the Aethelflaed he sees about campus. She lets her guard down a bit more, she seems softer and gentler. She’s still laser-focused when she’s occupied with her studies, but when she’s with him like this she’s completely present. He doesn’t have access to all of her, some things lay behind the veil still, but he doesn’t feel as if she holds anything back from intent.

Aldhelm rests his hands on her hips as she dips forward to kiss him again and then slips a hand up the front of her sweatshirt (monogrammed, just slightly oversized) to feel the smooth softness of the side of her breast. He can feel her smile as she begins to grind against him, and when she runs a hand up the back of his neck and into his hair it stills his breath for a beat.

He might live a hundred years and never get used to this. He’s caught between the deliberate and the spontaneous. This is usually how they take their breaks—not always ending in sex, it should be noted—but he’s consistently delighted by her touch. He loves the way her fingers glide over his skin, finding the most tender parts of him. She uses her tongue to unlock a version of himself he had been sure did not exist. It sounds romantic, but it’s also terrifying. Aldhelm is not entirely sure what he’s doing, but he knows he’s not in control.

Though he is not a bold man he is confident in his own calculated way. He is not used to being swayed so easily from the path he’s set upon. But the way she looks at him, the way she touches him—it makes him lose track of where logic ends and desire begins, lose track of time. 

Aethelflaed has a strict schedule she adheres to even on weekends, so he allows himself to sink into her, to forget himself, and will resurface when she moves on to her next agenda item.

“I have that dinner at six,” she breathes, undoing his trousers. “But you can stay here if you want. I won’t be out long.”

That she believes he can focus on having a conversation while she’s doing _that_ is flattering, if unrealistic.

Growing tired of the amount of clothing she’s still wearing, he begins to tug at the waistband of her leggings. She grins and slips off the sofa, removing everything below the waist in a single movement and he pulls off his shirt, nearly as suave. She returns to his lap, and he grips her ass, exhaling with pleasure as she makes contact.

She’s so wet already—equally flattering and efficient. He slips a finger into her, then two, and she responds by pulling the tie out of her hair. She prefers it up, he knows, but she indulges him by letting it spill over her shoulders despite how annoying she might find it.

She reaches over to the end table and grabs a rubber from the drawer. Extremely practical to have a secondary location. He has half a mind to tell her to wait, to go down on her instead, but she’s already fixed on her goal.

He keeps his eyes fixed on her as she rolled it on. Her movements are deft, her cheeks flushed. She looks up once, eyes heavy-lidded, then back to her task. Her fingers are warm and her touch firm.

When she guides him inside her, and he forgets his name and where he is.

She’s still wearing her sweatshirt—the winter chill had arrived—but he cups her breast underneath, no bra in his way. Her head is thrown back, eyes closed. She grips his shoulders, nails digging in just slightly in the way he didn’t know he enjoyed until her.

He moans something incoherent, and that almost wicked smile spreads across her face. Her eyes are still half-closed but she traces along his chest with one of her fingernails—just a light enough touch to make him lose him mind.

“Fuck, that’s good,” she breathes, raking a hand through his hair as he matches her movements. He breathes a laugh.

When she comes he feels her lean over for a breath and he rests too, enjoying the feel of her. Then she sweeps her hair back with a restless hand, and he turns her on her back, in sync together. She feels incredible from any angle, but looking into her eyes as she reclines so clearly sated is unmatched.

* * *

She turns her face in towards her, he presses a kiss to her temple. She sighs. He pulls her a little closer.

Her phone buzzes on the side table. She sighs again, this time with annoyance, and picks it up. Her eyes narrow, then widen dramatically.

“Fuck!” she jumps up and runs into the bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“What’s up?” he calls after her, more surprised than concerned. She’s usually more composed than this, to say the least.

“Edward and my parents are coming to pick me up for dinner.” Her tone is agitated. He hasn’t seen her this flustered before, it’s like she’s a completely different person. “I thought they were checking into the hotel first.”

“Oh.” Those were the aforementioned plans. Then, reality sets in. “Shit.”

“Shit!” she echoes from the bedroom.

Aldhelm leaps up from the sofa and begins to gather his books and papers from the dining table. He can't take the risk that someone may notice it isn’t her area of concentration.

Aethelflaed returns from the bedroom wearing rose colored lipstick and a slim black dress that’s falling forward at the shoulders.

“Zip me?” she asks, moving to his side and turning her back to him.

He’s struck by the intimacy of the moment as he pulls the zipper, while simultaneously realizing that they won’t ever have the opportunity for an outing of that kind together.

She seems to sense his thoughts, turning back with an apologetic smile. “Thanks.”

Her eyes dart to the table, where he'd managed to collect his things in one area.

“I’d better go,” he says, not wanting to force her hand.

She’s pursing her lips and tapping her fingernails against her phone case, not looking at him. He isn't sure if she’s displeased at herself for allowing this situation, or if it’s something else. He can overthink about that later.

He throws his coat over his arm and moves to gather his things, but before he can her phone buzzes again and she grabs at his arm.

“They’re already on their way up…you can’t go.”

His heart skips a beat, temporarily disrupting his brainwaves. “You want me….to stay?”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, God, no…sorry!” she adds, cringing as she realizes how that had sounded. “I just mean I think you’ll have to hide in the bedroom.”

“Right.” He clears his throat. “Of course.”

She sighs and grabs a key from the entryway table. “Here’s my spare. I’ll text you when we’ve left the neighborhood and it’s safe to go.” She pauses, an almost bashful expression creeping over her face. “Sorry…this whole thing feels really needlessly dramatic.”

“Not at all,” he replies dryly. “Very commonplace. If I had a tenner for every time I’d been in this situation before…”

He trails off as her face breaks into a smile, which sends a burst of warmth through him.

“If your other students find out how obliging you are, you’re going to be in trouble.”

“Luckily you can’t tell them,” he replies, taking the key. “Want me in the closet?”

She laughs and follows him a few paces into the bedroom, rising on her toes to kiss him, then grabs a pair of pumps and gently pushes him back onto the bed with her free hand.

He waits after she’s closed the door, books on his lap and computer bag beside him, trying not to tap his left foot nervously even though it won't make a sound against the carpeting.

There’s a faint commotion from the entryway, footsteps though the living room.

“If you want to leave the bags there, Dad,” he can hear Aethelflaed say, “We’ll swing by after dinner.”

“The place looks lovely,” a woman’s voice says. “Where did you find those curtains?”

More muffled speech, then a man asks, “Where’s the toilet?”

Aldhelm doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late.

The door to the bedroom opens, and a young man with a vague resemblance to Aethelflaed appears. He’s wearing grey slacks cropped just above the ankle and he has shoulder-length hair slicked back behind his ears. Aldhelm recognizes him from the picture hanging in the living room.

Aethelflaed’s bed is set back from the door so no one else can see in, but there is absolutely zero chance the person staring directly at Aldhelm hasn’t noticed him.

There’s a beat where neither of them moves then the younger man blinks and calls, “Sorry, wrong door,” over his shoulder as he closes the door.

Aldhelm remains frozen in place for the next several minutes, hardly daring to breathe in case another member of his not-girlfriend’s family feels the need to take a full tour.

He hears the water run, then the main door closes and the flat falls silent.

Exhaling in relief, he runs a hand through his hair. Perhaps hiding in the closet would have proven to be the less ridiculous choice.

His phone lights up with a text a few moments later.

It’s not Aethelflaed, but Hild.

_Plans tonight? We’re having a few people over for dinner if you can stop by._

He considers. He does not in fact have plans, and she’s been kind enough to extend this invitation before when he did, so perhaps he should take her up on it this time.

His phone lights up again, this time it is Aethelflaed.

_Safe to leave. Sorry again. Don’t worry about Edward, he’s a bit of a prick sometimes but he won’t say anything._

If she trusts her brother, he ought to as well. Both their fates are equally tied up in this information being kept secret.

He texts back.

_Not a problem. Enjoy dinner._

Mentally, he adds, _Don’t give your parents my regards, since they don’t know who I am. But if they did, I’d want you to._

Then he texts Hild to ask her address.

* * *

Hild lives on the other side of town in a terraced house with a small garden. It’s very neat and comfortable, though there are a few boxes scattered about that seem to indicate someone has just moved in.

When he arrives Iseult is at the stove preparing a vegetarian pasta dish in a large pot—they’ve met once before briefly, on campus, but Aldhelm is happy to see her again. She struck him as a very interesting person during their initial meeting, both as an individual and with regards to Hild. The two women have an easy report together, still in relatively early stages of their relationship together but definitely in the comfortable, steady phase. It's nice to see Hild so clearly happy and relaxed rather than bent over a desk with her reading glasses falling down her nose and a frown on her face. 

Hild is offering him a glass of white wine, and chatting with their other guests. Everyone is gathered in the kitchen, and Iseult doesn’t seem to mind darting around them too much as she puts last-minute touches on the meal. Hild is busy not burning the bread (a full-time job, it seems) so Aldhelm offers to finish the salad, and she accepts with a grateful smile. The whole scene reminds Aldhelm of the dinner parties his father would occasionally host for his Ph.D. students, and that memory sends a painfully pleasant pang through him.

He’s introduced to Halig, a man with curling reddish-brown hair and beard and a somewhat self-deprecating sense of humor who’s a coworker of Iseult’s, and Mildrith, an old friend of Hild’s—a pale pretty woman with a somewhat severe demeanor and brilliant mind.

The dining table is rather small for a group of five, but they make do, leaving the serving dishes in the kitchen, Hild and Halig taking turns refreshing wine glasses and plates. Aldhelm and Mildrith get caught up in a discussion of early modern church politics at their end of the table, much to Hild’s delight, it seems. After watching Iseult and Hild exchange their third less than covert glance Aldhelm begins to suspect ulterior motives.

The party begins to break up after nine. Halig goes home first, having an early morning, and Mildrith leaves soon after to relieve her babysitter. Aldhelm has nowhere to rush off to so he stays to help wash up.

Iseult is at the other end of the living area, unpacking a box of books, when Hild begins her quiet probing.

“How did you like Halig?” she asks, accepting the wine glass Aldhelm hands her and drying it carefully.

“Nice fellow,” he replies, tamping down his suspicion.

“And Mildrith?”

“Hild, was this a setup?”

“Not unless you want it to be.”

Aldhelm laughs. He hadn’t necessarily expected her to admit it, but honestly it tracks with his impression of her so far.

“You don’t have to want to be set up, that’s fine,” Hild says casually, leaning back against the kitchen counter as Aldhelm takes a sponge to the salad bowl. “You don’t have to tell me why not, either. I just thought I might provide you with…options. In case you were interested.”

“Is this an interrogation now?”

“Of course not,” she says with mock indignation.

“I’m not looking for anything, in answer to your thinly veiled question.”

“Mmmmm.” She creases a fold in the damp dish towel she’s holding. “Interesting.”

“I’m…sort of seeing someone,” he feels compelled to share. “It’s casual. Well…it’s complicated, but still casual.”

Hild raises an eyebrow and begins to dry the last of the plates as Aldhelm drains the sink and washes his hands. For some reason, he keeps talking.

“It’s been a bit surprising, actually. Just…I don’t know, I guess they’re not like anyone that I’ve dated before.”

Hild glances back at Iseult, who’s taken one of the books she was unpacking and curled up with a blanket on the couch.

“Sure, that can be challenging.”

Aldhelm crosses his arms over his chest. He feels that he’s on the precipice of an honest-to-god actual friendship with Hild, which might explain why he jumps without thinking it through entirely.

“Have you ever been sure that something is a bad idea but have no interest in stopping it?”

“Oh no,” Hild said, resting her palms on the edge of the sink and looking up at him. “You’re dating a student, aren’t you?”

Aldhelm is too taken off guard to react with anything other than obvious shock.

“You are,” Hild continues, incredulous.

“How on earth—“

“Because I’ve been there, you idiot.”

“You’ve dated a student?” Aldhelm realizes he’s speaking a bit too loudly and throws a glance towards Iseult, who has apparently dozed off. Iseult probably knows, he wagers, but he still ought to be more considerate.

“I didn’t say I was proud of it,” Hild hisses back, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge and holding one up for him. Aldhelm nods and she tosses it a bit too hard, hitting him square in the chest. He clears his throat to hide his laugh and waits for the contents to settle before he opens it. Never in a million years would he have expected this evening to go as it had.

“Anyway, we didn’t date, it was much more…” Hild pauses, raising her drink to her lips.

“Casual?” Aldhelm supplies dryly.

Hild purses her lips disapprovingly, but her eyes are filled with begrudging amusement.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I am going to warn you to be cautious.”

“I’m a very cautious person.”

“Mmmmm. The more I learn of you, the less I agree.”

“You barely know me,” he objects.

“That makes my point even stronger.” Hild shakes her head with an expression approaching fondness. “Where is your mysterious student tonight?”

“They’re…busy.” He can't say family stuff, in case Hild happened to know Aethelflaed and that her family is in town. Probably overcautious, but he has to compensate somehow. “We’re not together every night. It’s—“

“Casual, I know.” Hild taps her fingers on the kitchen island and surveys him with narrowed eyes. “How long has this been going on, anyway?”

“About…” Aldhelm tips his head to the side, pretending to do the math, “Two months.”

Hild’s eyebrows shoot up, but she’s focusing on her beer.

“They’re not a student of _yours_ , are they?”

“I’m…not really sure I should answer that.”

Hild closes her eyes and draws in a sharp breath. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Aldhelm—“

“Language!” His amusement with her reaction supersedes any embarrassment he might have felt. He knows it’s a bad idea, and it’s almost refreshing that it’s not completely a secret any longer (despite still being very much a secret).

“If ever there was a time to swear—“

“You’re going to wake your girlfriend,” he replies in an exaggerated whisper.

She rolls her eyes and presses a hand to her forehead as if that will relieve her stress.

“Whatever happened with your….dalliance, anyway?” he asks.

“It ended.” She looks him square in the eye. “I ended it. Before it got even messier than it already was.”

“I admire your resolve.”

“It’s not like they were my one true love or anything,” Hild replies curtly, setting her beer down with a gentle tap. “It wasn’t easy, but it was the right thing to do.”

She glances over at Iseult, curled beneath her blanket, and Aldhelm follows her gaze. Her expression softens a bit, and she turns back to him.

“I say you ought to be careful because I care about you, you know.”

He drops his chin for a moment, touched.

“You are an _idiot_ , though. I can say that since I’ve been in your shoes.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I ought to end it. But—“

“But they’re really wonderful and you’re having fun and waiting for them to do the hard bit?”

Aldhelm winces, thinking of the sock drawer.

“They won’t, most likely. It’s got to be you.”

He nods and takes another sip.

"You know I'm right," she says, eyes full of sympathy now.

"I know."

"Well...best of luck, I suppose."

"Thanks." He plays with the label on his beer. "Do your dinner parties usually end with an existential crisis like this?"

"Not exactly like this, no. Typically more a garden variety existential crisis."

He laughs, grateful for her relatively unbothered state (all things considered), and does his best to ignore the uneasiness that looms in the back of his mind. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I am very attached to the concept of an Aldhelm and Hild friendship so that will probably resurface later in this AU or another. Anyway, I promise the angst really is coming...get ready. 
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed, you can reblog [here.](https://aadmelioraa.tumblr.com/post/639680820094926848/aadmelioraa-modern-au-college-au)


End file.
